


Brothers in Arms, and in Beds

by A_Maenad_Called_Rex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Porn, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean breathes Angst like Sam breathes Salad, Dry Humping, First Time, Frottage, Incest duh, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Suicidal Thoughts, They have the sex., They thirst for eachother the whole first chapter., They're brief but wanted to warn anyways.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-11-01 06:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Maenad_Called_Rex/pseuds/A_Maenad_Called_Rex
Summary: They have the sex for the first time. It's beautiful, and kind of gross. Brief relationship negotiation. Basically they're in love. I just have to make them admit and accept it.*I always like to imagine them as underage but I am not saying it outright so Sam can be 18 if you want. I thought of him as like 14 though.





	1. A Normal Day in the Life

Dean was thinking very pleasant thoughts about that hot Asian girl he met last night and finishing off a cigarette. (He was going to quit soon, just not today. Probably not tomorrow either.) Michaela- Michelle? – was just about to reenact his favorite part of the night before when his little brother tackled him. Shaggy head butting into him, and lanky arms grabbing round his waist.

Michaela, Michelle, whatever, was gone now, but the part of his brain he doesn’t let talk out loud whispered that it was okay, because this is better than sex. He would be celibate for life if he got to keep this kid in his arms. He mentally told the voice to shut up and stop being such a girl. He hugged Sammy tighter too, and refused to think about it.

After waiting for a few minutes longer, and definitely _not_ smelling Sammy’s hair (It smelled of Apples, which Dean will definitely _not_ think of on the whole drive home) Dean shoved his brother away, put Sam's backpack into the trunk, and got inside the Impala. After two doors had shut, and his baby’s engine started to purr, they were speeding home, or more accurately, to a motel in Honey Brook, PA.

Dad was gone, again. Sam didn’t really mind. He was glad actually, when he wasn’t feeling guilty about it. He knew Dad loved them, Dean said he did. Didn’t mean he liked having him breathing down their necks. Dean didn’t do that, though he could be a serious mother hen sometimes. Dean never shouted at him when he made a mistake, though he did tease him sometimes.

Sam looked up from his history textbook and peered at Dean in the kitchen. He was humming Creedence Clearwater and sipping a warm beer while lazily stirring a pot of green beans. They were the whole, fresh kind from the local farmer’s market, because Sam hated the cut, canned ones. The AC was out in this month’s shithole, so they were both shirtless, but Dean, shameless as ever was just in boxers. His beer was sweating onto the stained linoleum floors, and a bead of sweat ran down the small of his back. Sam swallowed, and tried to concentrate on Alexander the Great again.

Dean was leaning over him and gently but firmly taking away his book a few minutes later. Sam didn’t look up, if he did he would see Dean’s bare chest a few inches away and he knew he couldn’t control his face that well, much less other parts of his body. A plate with green beans and reheated pizza was placed on his lap and Dean’s fingers brushed his thigh when they pulled away. Sam got up and got a glass of water. He was hot, and he was absolutely blaming it on the weather, thank you very much.


	2. A Not So Normal Day in the Life/"I love you too, you total fucking idiot."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both kind-of freak out. There had to be angst because I can't see them getting together without it. But then it's all better, because Dean accidentally confesses his feelings, sexual and romantic, and they do it. Yay! Gay, incest-y sex. My favorite. It's their first time, so there's no anal, but they'll work up to it next chapter, don't worry. Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said it would be ready like 4 days ago. Sorry. Please forgive me, I will set more realistic deadlines for myself in the future. Here, have some gay love and sex to make up for my betrayal.

Sam woke up in the middle of the night and he had to piss. He groggily untangled himself from the shitty sheets and stumbled to the bathroom. The door was closed and a small rectangle of light at the bottom declared it occupied. He patted the wood a few times.

“Dean, come on man, I gotta pee. Like now.”

Sam then had to shake his head and reevaluate whether he was dreaming or not, because he would swear he just heard a sniffle and half a sob come out of that bathroom. Dean Winchester, big brother, and hunter-extraordinaire was the only person that could be in that bathroom, and he never cried, not even six months ago when a poltergeist threw him out a three-story window and he was stuck bleeding and wheezing on the cement driveway until Dad and Sam could kill the bastard.

The door opened, and Dean rushed out, shoulder-checking Sam on his way past. Sam was a good little brother and wanted to investigate, see if Dean was hurt, but Dean was obviously alive and able to walk, and as aforementioned, Sam had to piss. Now.

Sam hurried into the bathroom and threw the door shut behind him.

When he opened it, Dean was laying on his stomach underneath the covers, with his face shoved in his pillow as usual. Sam checked to see if his body was shaking with tears or pain. It wasn’t though, only rising and falling steadily with what Dean wanted him to think was sleep.

So. Not bleeding to death or anything then. If Dean didn’t want to talk about it, Sam wouldn’t push. At least not at 1:51 AM.

Sam collapsed into the other bed and slept deeply until the sound of the Impala tugged him from his dreams.

*****

_ A big hand wrapped around Dean’s cock and stroked him. His not-so-little brother was crowded up against him in the motel shower made for one person only. Suddenly, his sweet Sammy was on his knees, with water streaming down his face. It looked like tears, but his boy was smiling at him. Sammy leaned forward. Licked him up then sucked him down. _

Dean came with a gasp. He was reaching towards over-stimulated now, but it took a few minutes for his brain to tell his shaking hand to stop stroking himself. 

His eyes were drawn to the shower wall which was now stained white, and shame filled his every cell. He had just blasted rope to some kind of sick fantasy of his little brother. What kind of perverted monster did that make him? As bad as the things he hunted, that was for sure. He didn’t want to think of his dad, but he couldn’t help it. His dad killed monsters. Thinking of the things his dad would do to him if he had ever found out about Dean’s little obsession made a little vomit come up into Dean’s mouth. Hell, _ Dean _ would want to kill Dean. No one gets to hurt Sammy, especially not him. He is supposed to be Sam’s big brother, his protector.

Instead, he’s the pervert jerking off to him in the shower 24/7. His knees buckled and he slid to the shower floor.

Killing himself briefly entered his mind –put my poor pathetic self out of my misery- but it left just as fast. That would hurt Sammy too, so it wasn’t an option. He could try to shift these feelings onto someone who wasn’t his little brother, someone he could actually be with. But he had tried that for the last few years. Ever since he even knew what these feelings were. No matter how hard he tried, Sammy filled his mind every second he was awake, and was in his dreams too.

He didn’t know what to do, how to make sure he wasn’t hurting or bringing down Sammy. His little brother was good. He deserved the world. But Sammy didn’t want the world; he just wanted a normal life. A house and a girl and a dog. He had told Dean so. He didn’t need his fuck-up big brother to ruin everything. Dean wanted Sammy to get everything he wanted, he deserved it. Sammy was the kindest, gentlest, soul he had ever met. Dean loved him. Fuck. Dean loved him, and that was exactly why he couldn’t let him go.

Sam was his heart and soul, and his reason for living. If he was gone, Dean would cease to exist, he just knew it. He didn’t realize he was crying until a knock on the stupid door made him jump about a mile high. Some hunter he was. Sam’s voice filtered through. Crap. He got up off the floor, wrapped a towel around his waist and splashed water on his face.

He pushed past Sammy on his way out and collapsed into bed. _ In _ . _ Out _ . “Breathe, boy. People are depending on you. How are you going to save anybody if you can’t even breathe right?” His father’s voice flashed in his head, and for once it actually helped. _ In _ . _ Out _. By the time Sammy got out of the bathroom, Dean had managed to steady his breathing, but the pillow his face was smashed into was still wet. He didn’t know how to turn the tears off. Hiding them would have to be good enough.

Sam slept and Dean wept. Quietly. He was so damn confused. And guilty. Mostly guilty. He couldn’t stay. He knew letting Sam go would rip his soul into pieces, but he wasn’t doing much better staying here either. He had made up his mind. He would leave, just for a while, to figure out a solution, and then he’d come back, stupid-feelings-free. Then he could watch Sammy ride off into the sunset with his dream girl. He could help Sammy get his dream life, without whining because it just happened to not include Dean in it.

That was what he wanted, to be there for Sammy. And that was what he was going to do, as soon as he got his shit together.

*****

Dean is sipping some shitty coffee in the first shitty 24-hour diner he came across, when Sammy bursts in, a cheery little bell hanging above the door announcing his arrival.

His little brother stomped up to his booth, the one by the back door with a clear view of the rest of the joint. Sammy sat down and Dean drinks his coffee, his cheeks a little pink. He must be getting rusty, he hasn't been gone an hour and Sammy's already caught up. he doesn't acknowledge the little voice that says, "Maybe you wanted him to chase you, to convince you to stay."

Sam knew better than to talk to Dean like a frightened animal, but he couldn’t help looking at him like one sometimes. Sam intentionally made sure his voice wasn’t too soft when he told Dean, “Stay.” Made sure to make it sound like a command, not a request or an offer. He knows that kindness sets Dean on edge, but the security of an order settles him.

Sam’s voice wasn’t speaking comfort but his eyes were and they both knew Dean could hear it anyways. Dean heard the implied _ please _ tacked on, the _ it’s all gonna be okay _ even though Sam kept it unspoken. Sam knew decisions were hard for his big brother. He just had to put enough certainty in his voice for Dean to fall into -to submit to. He had to be sure, so Dean didn’t have to.

“I need this Dean. I need you, and if you leave now, you’ll be taking from me. You’ll be taking away my happiness. You can’t leave, because I need you here. You’re mine, Dean”

Dean opened his mouth and Sam knew, just knew he was going to argue, say he didn’t belong to anybody, especially not his snot-nosed little brother. Sam nipped that in the bud.

“Don’t say you don’t, Dean. You and I both know better. You’re mine, and if I have to fucking take you I will. You’ve always been mine. You are going to stay right fucking here.”

Sam was mixing his voice with determination and emotion, so Dean would know how serious he was, while also making sure it stayed steady and even, so Dean wouldn’t grab onto his shakiness about this whole situation and use it as an excuse to run. Sam had to be sure. He was, he just had to convince Dean now.

"If you want to walk out that door, Dean, I'm going to need an explanation. You've never, not once, mentioned wanting to quit hunting, to leave the life. So I need you to tell me why you're walking out at 2 AM on a Wednesday."

Sam paused. "Unless… did I do something?"

Sammy's voice had gone soft, reminding Dean of the lanky 7-year-old that came up to his hip and begged for Lucky Charms. He was breaking Dean's heart. 

No, Sammy. You didn't do anything wrong. It's me who's fucked-up. Always has been and everyone knows it. I just want what's best for you and I gotta go away for you to get it. It won't be forever though Sammy, I mean this time at least. I just gotta go sort my shit out, and then I'll come back and help you apply for college and all that shit, and then after that if you want, you can kick me to the curb, but, but Sammy, you gotta let me see you happy first Sammy. Promise me, please, I know you don't owe me anything, b-but please you havta do this one thing. You gotta let me see you happy before you tell me to get lost."

Dean was still talking a mile-per-minute, but he couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears.

“Dean, no. No,” he said louder to break Dean out of his destructive thoughts. Sam was confused; Dean’s thoughts were hectic and the obvious panic spilling out of him was disorienting. He was guilty for not noticing his brother’s state of mind earlier, and angry because Dean hadn’t come to him about it. Angry at John for raising Dean with the belief that seeking help or attention was synonymous with weakness.

Now that Dean had stopped talking he needed something to distract himself from Sammy’s presence and judgment looming over him, and the napkin and straw wrapper were shredded by his trembling fingers. Sam noticed, and he saw Dean’s skin sporadically alternating between ghastly white and crimson too. He knew he had to bring Dean down from his panic-induced hysteria, but he needed a few minutes to find the words. He reached out and grabbed his big brother’s wrist, to let him know he just needed a second to collect his thoughts, but drew his hand back when Dean’s whole body flinched violently. 

After a few calming deep breaths from Sam and a couple of shaky ones from Dean, Sam tried to make sense of everything his brother had said. His father’s voice wandered across his mind. _ Sometimes, shit’s a mess, Sam. You gotta separate everything into smaller parts you can manage. Work one problem, one angle, at a time, and do it right, mind, until there ain’t no more problems. _Right, Sam could do that. Just address one thing at a time.

“Alright, so I didn’t do anything wrong, to push you away, that’s good Dean. I never wanna push you away.” Sam started slow, and made sure Dean was paying attention, even if he wasn’t quite making eye-contact. “As far as you being a fuck-up, welcome to humanity, we’re all fuck-ups here, and we’ve all done some stupid crap. We’re still good people despite that. You don’t have to leave Dean, you can be good for me here. I of all people understand needing some time for yourself, but that’s never really been your thing, you know.”

Dean’s face flushed again. He knew he could be a little needy sometimes, but Jeez, did Sammy really need to point it out. He was out of paper to tear up, and so now he was forming a tower out of coffee creamers, and _ not _ looking at Sammy. 

“And as far as the other thing… Dean, you don’t really think I plan on getting rid of you as soon as I start college do you?” 

Dean’s eyes held fear, and the answer Sam was dreading. His big brother apparently thought Sam viewed him as worthless. That Sam didn’t love him. Fuck that; Sam had been looking up to him since he was a toddler. 

“Dean, you might have a terminally low opinion of yourself, but you have got to listen and listen good when I promise you I do not. You’ve been my hero since I was six months old and you pulled me out of that burning building. You saved my life that day and a hundred times after that. Me going to college, and getting married someday, none of that is going to stop me from being your brother, okay.” 

It wasn’t a question. It couldn’t be, Dean had to believe it, so it had to be fact. To be law.

Which was all good and fucking dandy, until that B-word slipped out of Sam’s mouth. They were brothers. Fuck. Maybe Dean could tag along, follow Sammy and come to Sunday night dinners with the Mrs. But, he knew he would still be jerking it to his little brother every time he was in the shower, and that was unacceptable. He couldn’t hang around and risk corrupting Sammy with his sickness. The disease that was Dean Winchester. He needed Sammy to let him go, to understand why he had to go. But, Sam wouldn’t leave without an explanation. Dean wracked his brain for a believable answer that wasn’t, _ “Sorry, I’ve had irrepressible urges to fuck you till you cry and to smell your hair and to make you breakfast in bed since I can remember, and it’s kind of ripping up my soul into tiny bits being able to love you but only part-way. So, no hard feelings, little bro, see you when I’ve figured out how to turn my pervert-settings off.” _

He couldn’t think of anything. He grimaced. Sam was sitting across from him in a red vinyl booth that probably hadn’t been cleaned in 15 years, and looking at him with wide-eyes and a mouth open slightly with shock. Dean had seen his brother face ghosts before, stoic the whole time. This was something else. 

“You want to smell my hair?”

Every synapse in Dean’s head fired and then died simultaneously. His brain, which was previously overworking itself into a panic-induced coma, was now blinking at him with an “error” code. Suddenly, he had the horrifying thought that maybe he had said some of that out loud. 

“You’re not a pervert Dean.”

Dean froze. Sam’s wide-eyed look was reflected on his face. Three seconds later he was in the parking lot, fucking sprinting for the impala like he had a wendigo on his trail. Really, it was just his pain-in-the-ass little brother. Sam literally tackled him into Baby’s door, with a strangled cry of “Wait!” Dean could not believe this was his life.

He tried to push Sammy away, but the bastard just wasn’t moving.

“Dean, please don’t leave. Don’t go, please Dean, you can’t. I need you. I love you too. Please, you’re mine remember. Fucking mine. You have to stay. You have to make me breakfast in bed. Come on, Dean, give me five fucking minutes to convince you. I’ll fucking put you in Baby’s trunk and make you listen, don’t test me you asshole. Stop, fucking, fighting, me!”

Dean, did not stop fighting. 

People in the diner were starting to look at the commotion outside, and Sam didn’t know what to do. He spun his brother around, forced their bodies as close as possible and shoved his tongue down his throat. 

Dean’s brain had, once again, left the building.

It took a few moments for his operating systems to come back online, and a few moments more for him to process. _ Holy shit, that’s Sammy’s taste buds I’m feeling in my mouth. Ew, he didn’t brush his teeth before he came to get me. _Dean then tried to lick as deep into his brother’s face as possible. 

Dean decided to ride back to the motel in the passenger seat instead of the trunk. 

Sam was freaking out. He had accepted ages ago that Dean was never going to be more than a brother to him, and he had been coping, kind of. But, but, Dean loved him back. He kissed him back. The love of his whole goddamn life had just kissed him back and then shoved car keys into his hands. But, he knew, he needed to freak out later. When Dean wasn’t around to follow his lead. Right now, he just had to focus on not crashing the impala. Dean might actually leave for good if he did, and he definitely didn’t want that, not when they were so close to the edge of something so great and terrifying and perfect. 

The motel sheets were still just as shitty as Sam remembered them when they fell onto them. Sam tackled Dean again before he got any more brilliant plans to run away from this. Dean let out an “Oomph,” but didn’t fight Sam’s hold. Sam looked into his big brother’s eyes and tried to put as much love and certainty into them as he could. It must have been enough, because Dean hesitantly, gently, leaned up to brush his lips against Sam’s. It was a question. _ Is this alright? Are you sure? _Sam decided to give his answer out loud, just to make it that much more concrete. 

“Yes, Dean. I want you, I need you, now please, kiss me.” 

Dean did his best to never let his baby brother down. He knew he had failed at that in the past, but he wasn’t about to do it now. This was something he knew he could do for Sammy. He put their lips together again, and teased his tongue along the bottom and corner of Sammy’s mouth. 

Sam let him in and took some time to appreciate that that was Dean’s tongue in his mouth. _ Holy shit! _Dean sucked on his tongue, then drew back and tugged on Sam’s lower lip with his teeth. Their noses were touching, and Sam thought this was the best thing he’d ever felt. Dean’s fingers were like a brand when they touched him - one coming up to frame his face, thumb to cheekbone, and the other grabbing for purchase at his lower back. Heat like he had never felt before surged through him, and he clutched at Dean’s biceps. A groan rumbled out of his chest as Dean licked his way back into his mouth. 

Sam didn’t know how long they spent just kissing and grabbing at each other on that queen bed. He knew, though, that if his heaven only consisted of this one memory, on repeat for eternity, that he’d be content. 

Dean wasn’t experiencing exploding fireworks or flying sparks - just the clacking of their teeth smacking together, and a bit of annoyance at their noses smashing together - but this was definitely the best kiss of his existence. One hand grabbed the back of Sammy’s neck and held him close, the other shifted up and splayed against his heart. It was beating fast, but it was Sammy’s and he knew it and if it was beating next to him it meant everything was going to be okay.

Dean was hot and hard beneath him, and Sam was floating and suffocating on it. He rutted down into his brother’s hip without thinking about it. Dean had another of those full-body flinches, but he grabbed the back of Sam’s knees and pulled them up on either side of Dean’s waist. Sam had a better angle to thrust against Dean now, and he took advantage of it. Dean was pushing up against him now too. Sam thought he might faint, then remembered to breathe again, and forced his lungs to do it until the feeling faded some. He looked into Dean’s fucking gorgeous eyes. Grabbed his ass and leaned their foreheads together. They shared air, which smelled of Dean’s coffee and of desire. Sam breathed a litany of “I love you’s” into Dean’s mouth. 

Dean slid his shaking hands down the back of Sammy’s jeans. He didn’t know what to do about his heart, which was pulsating with feeling, sending overwhelming waves of sensation through his veins. The love and the relief and the all fucking _ feeling _was flooding his body. He didn’t know how to fight it, didn’t know if he wanted to. He knew he wasn’t strong enough, he knew he couldn’t run, so he did the only thing he could - he embraced it. 

Sam nosed and bit at Dean’s jaw, his Adam’s apple, his collarbone. He nipped at Dean’s black t-shirt and sucked it into his mouth. When he released it, it caressed Dean’s skin with Sam’s saliva for him. Saved him the trouble, so he could focus on suckling Dean’s nipples through his t-shirt, so he had three damp spots now. Sam rucked up the shirt and ran his tongue around Dean’s belly button before sticking inside it. This was Dean’s taste. This was what love tasted like, this right here.

Dean touched Sam’s zipper and paused. Sam nodded. Dean unclasped the button, unzipped the jeans, and drew Sam’s dick out. It was large, and hot, and velvety-soft, and Dean was salivating. He had never done this before, but he knew what he liked, and he knew Sammy. He stroked the shaft and twisted his wrist at the top, increased pressure and rubbed at the head. Teased his thumb around the slit. Sammy was falling apart on top of him. 

Sam drew back out of arm’s reach and tugged Dean’s zip down with his teeth. He nuzzled his nose into the hair there, and was rewarded with more of Dean’s heady scent for it. He got up and got both their shoes off, then jeans, and after a nod from Dean, their underwear. Then he was back up in Dean’s face kissing him breathless again. They were rutting up against one another, and it was dry and rough and perfect. 

Dean wrapped a calloused hand around them both, tangled the other one into Sammy’s hair. Sammy moaned and sucked his amulet into his mouth. Kid must have an oral fixation. 

Those fucking feelings were still flowing and overflowing in Dean, and they spilled out first through his voice. 

“Come on Sammy, I love you, I’m right here. Let it go, little brother. I’m here, you can let go, now. I love you. Sexiest thing on two legs I’ve ever seen. _My_ boy, you were right, I’m yours. Now prove it and mark me up, Sammy.”

Sam was coming all over Dean’s groin and hand and stomach, and then the feelings were spilling out of Dean through his orgasm. They shook apart together, and found their way back to each other through the orgasmic haze. 

Sammy was lying on top of him, and his weight was pressing sweat and come into his skin, but Dean didn’t mind. Didn’t think he would mind lying there underneath his boy for eternity. 

As soon as Sam remembered how to breathe once again, he forgot about it in favor of kissing Dean some more.

They kissed again and didn’t stop until the sun was up. They had the room until the end of the week, and they stayed there, wrapped up in each other until the motel manager came knocking at check-out time.


	3. The New Normal For Their Lives.("What were you fucking thinking, Dean?")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets hurt on a hunt because he was reckless. Sam's upset. Luckily, Dean knows what to do. The next morning, they have 'I'm-glad-you're-not-dead-sex'.

Dean was just finishing up with the stitches in his thigh when Sammy burst through the door with one of his many bitch-faces plastered on. Dean's body knew the drill and tensed up in anticipation of the lecture he was about to get. This caused the last stitch to hurt a fuck-ton more, and he hissed through his teeth at it. 

"What the fuck did you think you were doing, going after that fucker by yourself?!" 

Dean was about to share his reasoning (excuses) behind the aforementioned actions, but despite only being in the same room with him for six seconds, Sammy was apparently already done with Dean's bullshit. 

"Fucking answer me, asshole!" Sam roared it for the whole motel to hear. Dean got a little spittle on his face. He cringed. He knew it was bad if his brother started cussing every other word like this. Sammy was supposed to be the level-headed one. He _was_, unless of course, Dean was hurt. Sammy was scared, and Dean knew his little brother well enough to know that this wasn't going to end without a fight and a little blood. Well, a little more blood. His leg was already covered in the stuff.

First step to deactivating Sammy: get on your feet. That's supposed to be the easiest part, but Sammy barged in before Dean could take any pain meds, so it's pretty damn difficult. Second step is to defend yourself from the 210 pounds of muscle hurtling itself at you. Sam got a good hit in, and Dean's nose didn't break but it sure fucking smarted. Dean dashed gracefully (hobbled) out of the way, and the momentum from Sam's next attempt at rearranging Dean's face threw him into the bed. While he was cursing and trying to get back up, Dean sat on his back with his knees pinning Sam's arms to the lime-green floral bedspread. Sam was grunting with the effort of trying to buck Dean off of him, and Dean was pretty sure he was gonna fall to the floor in a second or two, so he had to start working toward step three. 

"Sam. Sammy, listen to me, you're hurting me. I know you're upset with me, and we can talk about this all night long if you want, but are you really gonna beat me up after I just got all sliced and diced like an hour ago?"

Sam stilled, as soon as Dean mentioned his leg. He could feel some of his brother's blood seeping into his t-shirt, and a whimper escaped him as he remembered how afraid he had been when he woke up and Dean wasn't there. Dean was gone, and he didn't leave a note, and the only place he would have gone was to hunt the monster. But monsters were dangerous, and Dean shouldn't have gone alone. Didn't he know he could've gotten hurt? And he is. He is hurt. He should've taken Sam. Why didn't he? Didn't he like hunting with Sam anymore? And then he had found Dean and the dead monster, which was good, it was all good now, but it wasn't because Dean was bleeding. That wasn't good. If you bleed too much you can die, and Sam wouldn't know what to do if Dean died. He used to think he could survive without him, that 'normal' would be good enough, but it's fucking not. Sam needs Dean and he almost fucking lost him, and that's not fucking okay!

Sam realized distantly he must have said quite a bit of that panicked thinking out loud, because Dean was stroking his hair with one hand and wrapping his other around Sam's fist, which was gripping the ugly-ass blanket so hard he thought it would rip. 

Sammy had stopped fighting to escape and was now fighting just to breathe, which meant it was time for step three: reassurance. Instead of straddling Sammy, he just stretched out until he was laying down on top of him. He held Sammy's fist and petted his stupid floppy hair and waited for him to deflate. His poor little brother, scared to death. Dean wasn't sorry for taking on this week's no-name monster by himself. It was far too dangerous of a hunt to drag his baby boy into, but he should've at least left a note saying he was going out to hustle pool or something. He shouldn't have left him alone like that.

"I'm sorry, Sammy, I shouldn't have left you alone like that. I'm sorry for making you so goddamned worried. I wasn't thinking about it, just thinking about how many civies that bastard had killed, and how I needed to gank it 'fore it took another tomorrow. I'm sorry, little brother, I'm safe now, everything's alright. I'm here, always be here."

All the fight went out of Sam, like a candle being blown out. Every muscle relaxed, and he was as good as dead to the world. Dean got up and rearranged them on the bed. He pulled Sam to his chest again and wrapped the blankets around them. They both still had their boots and jeans on. Dean needed to clean the monster goo and drool and blood off of himself. He would worry about all that tomorrow. Tonight, he would worry about Sammy. And he would try to do a better job of it next time. 

***

Sunshine pierced through lime-green curtains and went directly for Dean's eyelids next. He buried his face in between Sammy's shoulderblades to escape its assault. The arm he had wrapped around Sammy was asleep, so he moved it a bit to wake it up and brushed right up against a dick when he did so. Touching Sam's dick wasn't exactly new to Dean, but this was still a pleasant surprise. 

"Hello there." 

Sam's dick didn't respond. Dean took it as an invitation anyways. He shuffled down the bed and only almost shouted twice. His leg didn't appreciate all the moving he was doing, but let's be honest, some good dick is always worth a little pain. He lifted the covers over his head and went to fucking town. 

Sam was having a _very_ nice dream. 

Dean was having fun, but you can only blow someone who is unresponsive besides some twitching for so long before it gets old. His leg was starting to hurt. Well, hurt _more_, and he was kind of ready to get this show on the road. He took Sam into his throat, so deep his nose was up in Sam's pubes, and sucked. Hard. Sam woke up. 

Sam was having a _very_ nice morning. As soon as he crashed into consciousness, he became aware of two things. Dean's mouth, wet velvet and hot around his cock, and Dean's hand, fondling and caressing his balls. Dean looked up at him with hollowed cheeks and a mischevious glint in his eyes. Sam relaxed into the covers and put one hand into Dean's hair. It was so soft. He loved it. He petted it some, and his big brother rewarded him by petting his balls and bobbing his head. It sounded kind of fucked-up, big brother sucking you and all, Sam realized. Sam didn't care all that much. He thrust up lazily, and enjoyed the clench of Dean's throat around him.

Having a conscious partner was considerably better, and Dean would be content to blow Sammy all day long even if he didn't owe him after scaring him to death last night. That is, he would if his goddamned leg would stop throbbing. Regretfully, he pulled off of Sam and sat next to him by the headboard. 

"Look, baby, I know I owe you like a kajillion blowjobs, but I'm still bleeding a little and haven't had my medicine yet, so if you want sex, you're gonna have to take it."

Sam flashed him with a Cheshire grin, and Dean reached for the covers. The look in Sam's eyes told him he would be needing something to hold onto. 

What Sam meant to do next, was to sexily get up, and strut over to their duffle bags. What Sam actually did next was lean sideways, tangle his foot in the green sheet, and fall facefirst onto the equally green carpeting. The ear that wasn't smashed into the ground had no trouble picking up Dean's laughter. He would've been annoyed, but that sound was rare and honey-sweet no matter what. 

Sam was a man on a mission, and would not let a little early-morning clumsiness deter him from getting laid. Once he had retrieved the lube, he successfully strutted back to the bed and crawled up over Dean. They shared a kiss, exchanging forgiveness and a little tongue. Dean interrupted and Sam groaned. 

"Sammy..." 

"Yeah?"

"You gonna take off our shoes, or..."

Sam's head dropped. He crawled backward off Dean with a sigh and undid their boots and jeans. Now, no more interruptions. 

Dean was getting ready to open that stupid mouth again, so Sam preemptively tackled him and the only thing that escaped his pretty lips was an "Oof". He nibbled on Dean's earlobe and stuck a finger up his ass at the same time. By the time he worked up to three, he was sweating and Dean was panting warm breath onto his throat. Sam wrapped slick fingers around his brother and drew him up inside himself, taking pride in the way Dean stopped breathing for a second.

Only halfway down and Sam was trembling. Dean was big, and Sam always left himself a little less prepped than was probably necessary; he liked the feeling of Dean's dick stretching him out, liked the way it made his big brother toss his head around and hold onto him.

Dean liked pushing into a not-quite open hole too, but he liked not hurting Sammy more, so when Dean was in charge his boy always got four fingers. Dean was injured now though, so Sam got to have his way. After all, it's not like the burn was _that_ bad. 

Once his hips were touching Dean's, Sam stopped. Dean tried to thrust up into him, but Sam wasn't having it. He put his weight on one arm and gripped Dean's chin with the other. He angled his voice down low, in a pitch reserved for funeral pyres and putting Dean into his place. 

"You scared me last night." It wasn't angry or growled, just a cold fact. It made Dean shiver. 

"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean would have liked to look away but Sammy's long fingers were gripping his chin. 

"I know you are. I know you didn't mean to hurt me like that, but you did. You made the choice for me that I wasn't coming along. Well, now I'm in charge; I get to make the choices, and I get to say who comes."

Dean's eyebrows went up. Sam kissed them tenderly and then gripped the fucking horrendously upholstered headboard and rode his brother hard. 

Sam's thighs were trembling, and they were both wet with sweat. It was pretty much always good when they did this, but right now Sam felt electric. Charged up and high on the adrenaline and endorphins. His lover was flushed cherry red from his ears to his fingertips and it was Sam's second favorite color after the particular emerald only found in Dean's irises. Dean had started thrusting again, so Sam stopped moving. "Move again and I'm leaving right now and not coming back until tomorrow. You won't touch me again until the next full moon." 

Dean let out a pitiful whine but stopped moving. As tightly strung as they both were, there was no way they were going to last as long as usual. Dean could feel his heart pulsing through his entire body and there was heat radiating from where they were joined up into his stomach. He could feel it pulsing too, threatening to crash over him. Sam knew. Of course he did, there wasn't much concerning dean he didn't know, after all. 

As much as he was loving this, feeling his brother alive and well underneath him, he pulled up off of him. Another whine clawed its way out of Dean's chest, but he didn't reach out to pull Sammy back. There was no point. They were both more stubborn than stone. Sam sat on Dean's chest instead, put a knee on both sides of his head. "Open your mouth, Dean. Wait for your baby brother's come like a good boy."

Dean's blush spread to his fucking feet. He had always loved women. How soft they were, how wet they got for him too. But only his sweet boy could get him revved up like this. Could make him feel like this was the only thing in the universe, and that he would die if that changed. He opened his mouth. Sam didn't put his dick in his mouth, and pulled his hips back when Dean leaned forward, trying to lure it in with his lips."What did I say about moving." Dean's head hit the mattress. His hands were cramping where he was clutching the sheets. Sammy stripped his cock slowly with one hand and pinched his nipples with the other. He called out Dean's name and came into his mouth, and Dean wanted to come with him so _bad_.

"Sammy, please, let me, Sam. I'll be so good for you. Let me come, Sammy. Please, _fuck_."

Sam didn't move. He waited for Dean's eyes to meet his own. "No."

Dean whined again, but his fingers didn't move. He couldn't stop his hips from thrusting up hopefully, but it didn't matter because all they met was empty air. 

"How bout this, Dean, you can come." Dean looked up with wet eyes wide.

"As soon as you swear to me you won't ever go after some homicidal creature without telling me again."

Dean's eyes squeezed shut and the wetness leaked out of his eyes. The tears were partly from the sheer feeling of need he felt thrumming in his veins, and partly because he knew if he was a good brother, a good partner, he wouldn't need the incentive to make that promise. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I can't"

"I know, Dean, it's okay, I know. I love you, and I know you can't do this because you love me. It's okay, but you're not coming today."

Dean nodded, and Sammy licked up the tears. "Do you need help to listen or can you do it yourself?" It was an honest question, and Dean knew he was required to give an honest answer, so he took a moment to listen to his body and consider it. If he wasn't sure if he could restrain himself from humping the mattress till he came, he could tell Sam, and Sam would stay sitting on his chest until he could. 

"I'm good," he whispered regretfully, and Sam said, "You are. My good boy," and carried him bridal style into the bathroom. He ran a bath as hot as it could go and kissed Dean's neck while it filled. He licked his collarbone and nipped at the bolt of his jaw. Dean was glad that Sam had set him on the toilet seat lid because his legs were had been pulverized. When the tub was full, Sam sat Dean in the water and climbed in behind him. He took his time washing both of them down and laying kisses and reassurances along his big brother's shoulder-blades. 

***

After Sam had dried them both off and dressed them in comfy clothes, he kissed Dean again, just because, and spoke into his mouth. "Whaddya say we go get lunch, and then head home, maybe take a few days off?" 

Dean knew this was his call. He could say, "_No, I think I want to go see if that alleged haunting in New Orleans is really alleged_." Killing that thing last night hadn't really satisfied him. The need to hunt, to do something useful and important still polluted the air around him. But, he was injured, and besides, what could possibly be more important than taking care of Sammy, and letting him know how much he loved him. 

"Yeah, sounds good, Sasquatch," He rubbed his nose against Sammy's and then sprinted (hobbled) towards the door. "Last one to the diner's a rotten egg, bitch." 

Sam smiled, and then started running. Definitely not going just a little slower than usual.

Dean won the race. Sam paid for the waffles. It was a two-hour drive, but they didn't make it back to the bunker until dark, because they spent way too long making out in an ugly, lime-green, floral motel room.


End file.
